Dance the night away
by xXSuzuXx
Summary: In which Thomas is a liar- and a good dancer.


They stood, Thomas and Haytham, before double doors, where inside the common folk danced, sang and had a merry old time celebrating what little luck they had.

"Are you certain we are in the right place?" Asked Haytham, lips pursed both in doubt and in thought.

Thomas nodded. "Aye, never been so sure in me loife."

Not entirely thrilled about their new find but particularly curious about the celebrations taking place in the night, Haytham sighed again. They searched now for a girl, hardly an adult who Pitcairn seemed to think had some information of interest to give them regarding the pendant he carried on his person. Having found no lead in many months, they sought to follow this one and Thomas was set to the task of finding the girl. It had been Thomas to lead him here, as Haytham had requested that he be directly involved in both deciding whether the girl had any notable information to give and capturing her for questioning if she did. "Very well then, lead the way."

There was a curious was in how Hickey smirked at him, but there was not a moment given to question him; Thomas had already shouldered his way inside and Haytham had no choice but to follow.

If the music was loud from the outside, then it was overwhelming inside where there were all the telltale signs of merriment and the instruments struggled to be heard over the boisterous noise of celebration. The air stank of ale and sweat, but none seemed concerned about it. They had either decided they did not care or simply did not notice. Haytham scrunched his nose briefly, then adjusted; he had, in fact, smelled worse smells before.

By the time he turned back to Hickey, he found the man already had a cup of ale in his hand, and couldn't help the etchings of a smile upon his lips. Thomas, it seemed, never failed to come across a cup of ale whenever it was within close proximity. "So, tell me," He began, "Where is the girl?"

For a moment, he thought he might have seen something apologetic upon Hickey's features. Almost. "Ay'em sorry, 'Ayfom, I'aven't a clue wot th'girl looks loike. Only know she's 'ere."

Haytham rolled his eyes. "Of course," he muttered under his breath, "What needs to be done?"

"Nuffin' much, ye jus' said you wanted t'be here. I can find 'er."

"If you haven't pinpointed her location yet, what makes you think you will be successful now?" There was a glimmer of both mischievousness and pride in Hickey's eyes, despite the criticism.

"Y'll see." Just like that, Thomas had melted into the crowd and would have disappeared entirely to the untrained eye. Haytham, however, was no untrained and could see the man teeter about, beer in hand as he attempted to flirt with a girl and was shot down, only to grope her chest and be smacked for his efforts. Haytham shook his head, having a good idea of what he was trying to do and knowing full well that Thomas was better at blending in with the crowd to obtain information than the others were. While he did not intend to get in the way of the young man's work, he thought he best put his own talents to use, and like Hickey, he welded into the crowd.

His ears perked to pick up anything that might be of interest to him, catching drift of any conversation that might bring him closer to what he sought. But there was something off tonight. Something, that at first he could not quite put his finger on, and thought it did not quite feel important, it was constantly a distraction, irking him so that he could no longer concentrate.

He took to wandering, picking up dull points of conversation that were of very little interest to him. It was the band that finally caught his attention, as the playing stopped and the members began to chat amongst one another. "We can't play the other pieces without him." Hissed one, who must have been the leader of the group.

"Nobody's gonna mind if we play the same pieces. Too damned drunk."

"I refuse to play a bunch of odd sounding compositions for any crowd, never mind their level of sobriety."

"But sir, erryone'll leaf if e'quit playin'"

Haytham doubted anyone would actually mind much if the music stopped, as he had been the only one so far who'd seemed to notice. But there was always the possibility of the more pompous one attempting to cancel the event altogether should he not get what he wanted; which appeared to be a fiddler. Now he knew exactly what had been so offsetting earlier.

He stepped forward. "Gentleman," He regarded the men with a nod, but it was only two who acknowledged him in return, one much less impressed than the other. "I could not help but overhear your predicament a moment ago. You appear to be short a man… a fiddler, it seems?"

The less educated of the two narrowed his eyes in suspicion, and spoke. "Aye, we did."

It was the composer then that seemed to catch on to what Haytham might have been hinting at, and his eyes took on a hopeful glow. "We are, sir, yes. Would you happen to play, perhaps?"

"Yes, and rather well I'm sure you'll find." It was as lie; he'd last played violin as a child. It had been his mother who had insisted on him learning to play an instrument, and he had stopped only when she passed away, when he'd finally accepted that she would never again be there to listen and deliver praise. "If you are short a man, then perhaps I could be of assistance."

The leader looked ready to agree, but unfortunately, he was stopped. "No dankye, we can play wifout ye."

"Nonsense, we simply cannot go on without a fiddler

"But 'ow do we know 'e can keep up?"

"Jim, please. There is no need to be so rude."

"Ah, you will have to have faith in me. After all, how can you go on an instrument short? It would be a strange sound and unruly even at best."

The leader, a man he judged to be in his fifties, clapped his shoulder. "Precisely! Now here is a man who clearly has a deeper appreciation for music! I am sure you will do just fine, er… I'm not sure I caught your name, sir."

Haytham smiled, knowing he had won over the one who truly mattered. "Kenway," He replied, "Haytham Kenway."

"Good man. You may call me Mason. Now, let us go over what we plan to play tonight and that will be that." Mason gestured for Jim to fetch what they needed, and grumbling under his breath, Jim complied.

They went over the sheet music briefly, Mason speaking more of what had been going through his mind when he composed each song than the songs themselves. Haytham only had to half feign wonderment, and could only hope he had not grown rusty from ill-practice.

It appeared that others had noticed the distinct lack of music by the time they were ready to play, and Mason beamed with pride at the applause they received, while his own cheeks might have darkened a little.

Now he need only sort the difference between what he had learned of the violin and what he had seen of the fiddle. Very little difference, in fact, but when he first went to play the instrument made an awful sound that had the other members looking to him doubtfully. Fortunately, he managed to shake off whatever suspicions they may have had simply by pretending to tune the instrument. He raised it again and played. He found that a lack of practice had not made him worse, as he had feared, but rather he had grown better with age and what other skills he had developed. Haytham did, however, adjust slightly part way through the second song to something he felt more comfortable with, but if anyone noticed no comments were made.

Once he was more confident in himself, Haytham began to pay attention to the happenings in the hall. His eyes sought Thomas out first, who was not incredibly difficult to track now, no doubt well into his cups as he pulled a young woman- a different young woman than before, he noted- into the center of the hall so that they might dance. Not any of the steps Haytham had learned as a boy, either, where the steps were slow and deliberate, but a dance the people called Riverdance, which the common people enjoyed. By the looks of it, young Thomas was quite good at it, too, for he soon became the center of attention, grinning sloppily, but smiling nonetheless as the crowd clapped and cheered for him as his feet moved with a grace that belayed his drunkenness. Then the others joined, dancing to the furious tempo the music set for them.

It did not once cross his mind then that Thomas might not have been doing his job, for he himself might have been lost, a bit, in the festivities. Or perhaps playing was more enjoyable than he remembered it, because he found himself thoroughly disappointed when a young man, a bit younger than him, at least, ran frantically to greet the band.

There was no break in the music as he began to speak. "I-I," He stammered, paused to draw a breath, then continued, "My sincerest apologies, sir. I hope you can forgive my tardiness." He said to Mason. "It's Petilda; she's pregnant, and I could not leave her side until now. I-I, please let me play, sir, please."

Mason kept a hard expression that must have had the boy scared, for he shifted restlessly until the man finally smiled at him in such a way that seemed to tell him that all was forgiven. He nodded to Haytham, and spoke. "You have done us a great kindness in playing for us today, Master Kenway, but now that our Fiddler has arrived, we need trouble you no further. Rest assured I will not forget the kindness you have shown me today and I promise I will someday find a way to repay you."

It was all he needed to hear, and Haytham was not foolish enough to attempt an argument. He was, after all, only a stand in and there was still work to be done. Taking comfort in that he had new allies to fall back on should he ever have need of a favour, he surrendered the instrument to its rightful owner, and nodding stepped away. Indeed, the regular was a better player than he, and though he had done well enough, there was no denying the vast difference in skill. Perhaps he would have take up the violin again on the side.

Drifting into the crowd came now easier than before, and he became nothing more than a shadow. And yet it seemed Thomas had no trouble in picking him out and dragging him off to the side. "Oi, 'Ayfom, I didn't know ye could play." The younger dragged him about, pushing a cup of ale into his hand and retrieving one for himself.

"Evening, Thomas. I see you have made no progress in locating the girl." The chiding was not so harsh as he had initially intended, and rather out amused. Thomas, catching onto this, merely grinned sheepishly.

"I'll 'ave 'er found soon enough." He promised, urged Haytham to drink and began tugging him along again once he had. "Even if we 'ave t'dance wif erry girl 'ere!" He didn't seem particularly distraught by the idea, Haytham noticed. "Y'gonna help?"

Brows furrowed, Haytham pulled his hand away. "Thomas…" He began, "I have never danced like that before in my life, surely you cannot mean for me to.."

"Whaddaya mean ye don't know 'ow? It's easy, I'll teach ye." He paused to consider something. "y'just need to remember t'move yer feet. Loik this." He did a little demonstration that left Haytham more confused than before, but after a few reluctant attempts he thought he might be beginning to get the nag of it. Besides, he wasn't given much of a chance to learn or protest when Thomas began to tug him about again, intruding upon small groups of women, who, for once, seemed more impressed by Thomas than by him. Thomas dragged women out singularly to question them and every so often he would pass Haytham cups to drink from when he went by, dancing all the while, and Haytham found he was pulled easily into Hickey's maddening pace, with little resistance to it.

He was forced to learn as they went along, drifting from crowd to crowd and eventually joining a dance that involved all those on the floor. Haytham was much less horrified than he would have expected in being faced with Thomas as his partner in a couples danced. By then, of course, he was too drunk for it to have mattered whether he danced with Thomas or a mountain lion.

Then the music stopped abruptly, and he found himself pulled flush against Hickey's body, panting and red faced. Since when had dancing been so exerting? He was certain he had lost count of drinks at eight, but knew he must have had far more, as his head was swimming and near ready to burst. "I want'te fock ye so bad roight now in front of erryone." Thomas breathed, stinking of ale and something rotted.

Haytham found he had no reply to that, neither the usual witty remark, whether out of irritation or amusement with the man's advancements, or even a light shove. He could only groan, leaning against him and hardly managing a glare.

Thomas snickered. "But I won't, least not 'ere." He pulled him along, more gently than before and he was horrified somewhere to find that it was he who stumbled about while Thomas seemed perfectly stable. How many drinks had he had? More than one man should have been able to handle at once, no doubt.

Thomas guided him outside, the night air cool and fresh against his flushed skin, refreshing after breathing the stifling air inside. They stopped short after rounding a corner, and then Thomas shoved him roughly against the wall, sending a sharp pain up his shoulder. Yet, with not a moment to complain, Hickey's lips were upon his.

It was a smoldering sort of heat that came from Hickey's mouth when he kissed. Reckless, wild, exhilarating yet somehow comforting in a sense, knowing he need not to worry. He wondered briefly if it must have come with giving up control; giving up control and knowing he was still safe. And he melted into it, knees feeling weak even as he felt Thomas's knee at his groin. "Feelin' that, 'ey 'Ayfom?" Asked Thomas ever so smugly as he pulled back to at last allow him to breathe.

His brain took a moment to catch up with his body, and when it did, it was their initial goal that came to mind. "The girl," Breathed Haytham, "What about the girl?"

Grinning, Hickey pressed their lips together again and kissed him deeply, their tongues twining inside his mouth and successfully crushing any resolve that might have remained within Haytham. "Wot girl? 'Dere wos never 'ny girl, 'Ayfom." And for a moment he was truly baffled. "But now yer drunk and yer mine."


End file.
